


I Saw Cap Kissing Santa Claus

by Mizzy



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Avengers Vol. 1 (1963), Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, M/M, Secret Identity, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21974236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizzy/pseuds/Mizzy
Summary: When Tony dressed as Santa for Queen County Hospital's annual toy drive, he wasn't expecting Steve to recognize him...as Iron Man.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 152
Kudos: 826
Collections: 2019 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange, Iron Man's Identity is a Secret





	I Saw Cap Kissing Santa Claus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cathalinaheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cathalinaheart/gifts).



> For the short prompt: "Identity Porn." 
> 
> Now reveals are over: thank you so much to the-casual-cheesecake for risking death from fluff to beta this for me; thank you to my real life Rhodey Bear for supporting this fic, ILU Loran; and go go team identity porn, thanks for helping me weave the web of lies to misdirect from how obvious it was that I’d written this.
> 
> Cat! I loved getting to write for you. Best exchange experience I could have hoped for. Love you. 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

Santa Claus probably wasn't supposed to drive off in a limo, but it wasn't like Tony had thought to bring a sleigh to Queen County Hospital.

Tony was already busy thinking of a way to make a repulsor-powered flying sleigh with holographic reindeer for next year, but that was beside the point. He had turned up at the Annual Toybox Appeal expecting to do his usual job, convincing other rich businessmen to add extra zeroes to their checks, only to find the staff in a flap because their Santa had passed out in the staff room.

Tony Stark had a weakness he didn't want anyone to know about. His heart troubles were still relatively unknown, but there was a weakness he wanted to keep under wraps just as tightly as he kept a hold on Iron Man's secret identity: kids. Particularly sad kids. Even more specifically: sad, sick, lonely kids stuck in a hospital for the holiday period.

He was volunteering to play Santa before he even really thought it through. Even after the hospital manager cried in gratitude and handed him the suit, and he had time to think it through as he pulled on the distinctive red-and-white clothing, Tony couldn't find it in himself to regret his impulsive yes. Tony had already done the most important part of his job, so the money part was sorted for another year. And it wasn't like people would even know it was Tony Stark inside the costume. He might not have had extensive experience pretending to be Santa Claus, but Tony did have copious experience of anonymously walking around in a red suit. It was nice to dive fully into being someone else for a short while.

The kids had loved his appearance and performance, and, even better, Tony's brain now held a comprehensive list of things the children in the long-term ward at Queen County Hospital wanted from Santa that year. Santa might be making one more delivery to that hospital before the week was over.

There had been a spill of some kind, over near the entrance Tony had come through as Santa—the kids were unwell to start with and adding party food and excitement to the occasion was probably a bad idea—and Tony had ended up having to leave through the main entrance of the hospital. Which meant maintaining the illusion, because the hospital had large windows, and there were already children pressed up against the glass, staring to see where Santa went. Santa couldn't exactly skulk off around the corner of the hospital.

The limo seemed a glamorous enough escape for Santa Claus to plausibly make, and Tony left the hospital with a rushed promise to have the suit dry-cleaned and sent back to the hospital as soon as possible. When Happy could barely conceal his smirk when he looked at Tony in the rearview mirror, Tony refrained himself from firing Happy by consoling himself with just how happy the kids were to see him.

"It was real sweet of you to do that, boss," Happy said.

Tony glanced up at the rearview mirror again, expecting to see Happy still amused at his expense, but there was a soft smile on Happy Hogan's round face. Happy was a good man; Tony was lucky to have him. It was a shame that he hadn't been able to keep Iron Man's identity from Happy, as the knowledge seemed to put him in danger more often than not, but at the same time, it was nice to have someone as dependable and kind as Happy to share the secret with.

"Well, we already know I look good in red," Tony winked at him.

"Still want to go straight to the Mansion, boss?"

"Yeah. With the way villains have been descending on the season, it makes better sense for Iron Man to be based there until things calm down."

"I don't understand villains in general. But to attack people in the holidays—"

"I'll make sure to put coal in their stockings," Tony said, just to make Happy laugh. "Right after I sock it to 'em, of course."

Happy made a cheering noise. "That's the holiday spirit I like to hear, boss."

"Would you have time to join me for supper before you go? Or is Pepper expecting you back?"

Happy beamed at the invitation. "I'm sure I can squeeze a snack in—but one question."

"Yes?"

"Is it gonna be milk and cookies?" Happy waggled his eyebrows.

Tony snickered. Just for that comment, it would be.

* * *

Between the continuous villain attacks, Pepper's aggressive diary-management, Janet van Dyne's planned public appearances for the Avengers, Tony's own annual holiday appointments, and various things going wrong at _Stark Industries_ as they were wont to do—Tony was tired. Which was why as soon as they got to the Mansion, the only concession to comfort that Tony made was tugging off the beard and pocketing it.

Happy laughed when Tony pulled out a bottle of milk and a tin of cookies, but the amusement didn't stop him from generously helping himself to both. Jarvis had been baking non-stop since the start of December. Jarvis enjoyed baking and counted himself as a pro; he was deeply delighted to have the excuse of hungry superheroes to indulge his hobby.

"So have you figured out what to get Pepper yet for Christmas?" Tony asked, mainly so he could settle back and just listen for a while. Talking fellow businessmen out of their cash was something Tony was good at, but even he tired of the sound of his own voice after a few hours of it.

Happy obliged, regaling Tony with a full list of the adventures of trying to find a way to find the perfect gifts for Pepper, and how difficult it was to hide things from her. Tony offered to hide them in his secret lab, but Happy shook his head—half the fun of buying gifts for Pepper was the fun of concealing them from his wife. Tony could see where the appeal lay; Pepper had an extraordinary nose for digging out secrets. It was still somewhat of a surprise she hadn't figured out Iron Man's identity yet for herself. Tony would feel guilty about keeping it a secret from her if it wasn't safer for her not to know.

"How about you, boss? Done all your shopping yet?"

Happy's question startled Tony out of his thoughts.

"Well, I made your wife do all the official gifts from the company," Tony said. "I sent Morgan the annual hamper, although goodness forbid he doesn't deserve it this year, considering what he's been up to. But he's family all the same and I don't have a lot of that."

"You have me and Pep," Happy said loyally. "And the Avengers."

"I let Pepper choose the gifts for you both, too," Tony laughed. "Letting her choose was half the gift, really."

"She does enjoy wielding someone else's credit card," Happy nodded. "Thank you in advance."

Tony beamed. "You're very welcome."

"And for the Avengers? Iron Man would be giving gifts—you can't delegate that to my wife."

"More's the pity," Tony sighed and resisted the urge to rub his temples. "Two days to go and I'm still stuck what to get. Jan decided we should do Secret Santa this year."

Happy made a loud, amused noise into his milk glass. Tony looked down at himself, still in the Santa suit. "Maybe tonight will help you figure it out? Let you get into character?"

"Maybe."

"Who'd you get?"

Tony pulled a face. "Steve."

Happy nodded thoughtfully. He was one of the few people who knew Captain America's real identity; it had been impossible to avoid him knowing. Happy dropped Tony off here too often for him to have missed it. Steve had introduced himself the third time he'd met Happy, half in uniform, and Happy had admirably barely tripped over his own feet in his excitement. "Well, you live with him," Happy said, slowly. "Don't you know him better by now?"

"Oh, I know the man well enough," Tony said, which was playing it down, but he was getting used to talking about Steve casually. He had to. Like much of Tony, it was a carefully controlled performance. His crush on Captain America when he was a teenager had been embarrassing; to be crushing on the man _behind_ the mask as a grown adult was beyond humiliating. Better for Tony to wear one more mask so he could pretend to be a functioning person. "But—you're going to laugh."

"You're the genius futurist, boss. If you think I'm going to laugh, I probably will."

"Thanks." Tony shared a brief smile with Happy. "It's—there's a $50 limit."

"Nice. That's a nice amount. Better than the $5 one going around your HR department Pepper roped me into."

Tony squinted. "I guess I didn't think about the fact it could have been _worse._ " He pulled a face. "Happy, what can you even _get_ for $50?"

Happy's mouth went slack in realization. They got on so well, it was difficult for them both to remember sometimes that they lived in completely different spheres of experience. Happy squinted and _didn't_ laugh, which was pretty decent of him.

"A cheese board?" Happy suggested, after a long pause.

Tony blinked. Was that a normal Christmas gift? "A cheese board," he repeated.

Happy shrugged. "Who doesn't like cheese?" He reconsidered. "Unless he's allergic or vegan."

"I suppose."

"There's something else you could give him," Happy said.

Tony froze. He was usually so careful about not letting any of his feelings for Steve slip, but maybe he hadn't been as careful as he should, maybe Happy would suggest that—

"You could tell him who you are," Happy concluded.

Oh. Happy wasn't about to suggest _that_ sort of thing. Well. That was probably a good thing.

"How about no," Tony grouched and sulkily reached for another cookie. He frowned at the milk. "I have enough trouble with the mustache sometimes—how _does_ Santa drink so much milk when he has _such_ a bushy beard? Wouldn't he just slop milk all over his sleigh?"

Happy was astutely staring at him. "You're a trial-and-error kind of guy, boss," Happy gestured at the glass. "Try it and see?"

"Ah, the old empirical method," Tony said, pulling the fake Santa beard back out of his pocket and fastening it back on his face, silently vowing to call up the company that was arranging the secret vacation package he'd planned to surprise Pepper and Happy with for Christmas and adding an extra round of spa treatments to it. Happy deserved it for not calling him out for changing the subject.

"Sipping it looks safe enough," Happy surmised at Tony's first attempt. "But wouldn't he have to slug it down quick, to drink so much milk in the timeframe?"

"The mysterious metaphysics of Santa Claus aside," Tony said, smoothing down the beard, "maybe he has a straw hidden in his suit somewhere? I'm a big fan of hiding tiny helpful tools and gizmos in suits. You should see _half_ of the stuff in the Iron Man armor I haven't even had to deploy yet."

"I've seen the roller skates," Happy said.

Tony grinned. "Everyone loves the roller skates."

"That's true enough," a different voice interjected.

Tony lurched up quickly, because he knew that voice, and knew it well. "Steve," he called out, instantly cursing that his voice sounded a little strangled. "Hi."

"Hi," Steve echoed, fully entering the kitchen now that he'd been greeted. He was wearing casual clothing, like he'd just come from the training room. "Good evening, Mr. Hogan." Steve's mouth quirked at one side. "Santa."

"Ho, ho, ho," Tony said, making Steve's smile widen.

"He remembered me," Happy hissed to Tony. Okay, so, maybe Happy was still a _little_ uncool around Steve. Tony didn't blame him.

"Of course I did," Steve's forehead wrinkled at Happy's statement. "You're Mr. Stark's driver. Why would I forget you?"

Happy beamed. "You can call me Happy, if you like. Everyone does. Except today I guess you can call me Rudolph."

"Happy," Steve repeated, nodding firmly. "I'll remember that too." His eyes darted from Tony in the Santa suit, to the cookies, and back to Tony. "It's nice to see you in a different suit, Shell-head. Suits you."

Tony froze. Happy turned to him, his eyes wide. "Uh," Tony said, helpfully.

Steve clapped his hands together and headed to the fridge, pulling out a water carafe. He shot Tony an amused look over his shoulder as he effortlessly poured himself a glass of water without looking. "Was it supposed to be a secret? Same eyes, same height, same build?"

As Steve returned the carafe to the fridge, Tony stared at Happy in rising horror.

"He got that far connecting _those_ dots but still doesn't—?" Happy started to mutter. Tony elbowed him. Happy yelped as Steve turned back around from the fridge. "Of course I drive Iron Man around as well as Mr. Stark," Happy said, a little too loudly.

Tony glared at Happy intensely. Perhaps he wouldn't upgrade the vacation package for him after all. Happy noticed the glare and quailed.

"I'm just—gonna take this and go," Happy mumbled, picking up another cookie and getting to his feet, a smile fixing to his face as he backed up toward the door.

"You don't have to leave on my account," Steve said, putting his water down at the table, starting to pull a chair out right next to where Tony was still seated, somewhat frozen. Steve knew he was Iron Man. Just from his eyes and height and build? Did that mean Tony's identity was vulnerable now? Did Steve already know and was messing with him?

"I'm sure my wife is wondering where I've gotten to," Happy said.

Underneath Tony's fake beard, Tony was sweating, and not just because the suit was heavy, warm material with lots of fur. Steve knew it was him? Well. Knew he was _Iron Man?_

Normally he had a whole suit of armor to protect his identity. But right now, all he had was a padded costume and a fake polyester beard and oh god, nothing to disguise his voice at all. This wasn't good. He should be making his escape. Tony absolutely should be making an excuse to leave the room right now.

And he would. As soon as his voice decided it wanted to work.

"I'll see you tomorrow b—bud," Happy squeaked the last word, swerving from saying _boss_ last minute, and then he fairly fled from the Mansion.

Tony dropped his gaze for a moment. This was fine. Steve hadn't called him _Tony_ or _Mr. Stark._ He called him Shell-head. As far as Steve knew, he was Iron Man. In a Santa costume. Tony had to proceed with that assumption for now.

When he looked back up, Steve was smiling at him.

"What?" Tony said, gruffly.

"Just wondering whether this might be your new look," Steve said. "Iron Santa?"

"I'm considering it." Tony tried to keep that gruff element in his voice. Steve was sitting so close to him. Did Steve _have_ to sit so close? Tony resisted the urge to adjust his fake beard. Casual. That was what he needed to be. Santa _Casual._ Steve couldn't know who he was. No extreme emotions. Tony just had to keep his face straight and his voice as calm as possible and everything would be _fine._ "Might add the beard to the faceplate."

"So why the new suit?" Steve tilted his head, considering. "Should we be calling you Jingle-Bell Head now?"

"Annual Toybox drive at Queen County Hospital," Tony explained. It was nice to have facts to fall back on. Helped keep his voice level. "This year their Santa had ended up in the ER and, I guess, Iron San-ta to the rescue. Why are you up so late?

Steve shook his head and rubbed his hands over his face. " _Secret_ Santa woes, I'm afraid." He shot Tony a surly glance. "Bet you've already got it figured out."

"Of course," Tony lied. "Who did you get?"

Steve narrowed his eyes. "We're not supposed to tell," he said, in a firm voice, before smirking, "but if you had any idea what someone whose name rhymed with, say... _Planet Can Line_ would want—?"

Steve grinned mischievously. Tony found himself helplessly grinning back. Steve had such a nice smile.

Dammit. _Dammit._ Calm. Tony had to stay calm and in control. That was the plan. Steve was open with him in a way he only was around Iron Man. Around _Tony Stark_ , Steve was friendly, but he didn't smile as often around _Tony_ as he did around _Iron Man._ It was when Tony was himself, and he was talking to Steve, that he regretted the secret identity thing the most. People knowing his identity was for their safety, but if anyone could protect themselves, wouldn't it be Steve Rogers?

Tony blinked that thought away. It was a dangerous line of thinking. "Jan's easy to buy for," Tony said, realizing that he needed to give Steve an answer. He'd been hoping to get Jan for the Secret Santa himself, because he knew what to get her in a heartbeat.

"I'm sure Jan's easy to buy for," Steve said. "But is _Plan_ easy to buy for?" Steve waggled his eyebrows.

Right. Of course. " _Planet,_ " Tony said, drawing out the two syllables, "is obsessed with those cinnamon pastries from that bakery on twenty-fourth, and they do gift certificates."

" _Thank_ you," Steve said. "I tried to go to a fabric store, but—I had no idea what I was looking for. And she—"

"Is exceptionally picky," Tony interjected.

"She knows what she wants," Steve corrected.

Tony perked up, a solution hitting him that was _brilliant._ "Next time we do Secret Santa we'll make wishlists a mandatory feature."

"I think I'd find that difficult," Steve shook his head. "I have no idea what I'd put on a list like that."

Tony internally sagged. So much for Steve maybe dropping a hint now as to what he might have liked. How was Tony supposed to figure out what Steve wanted if even _Steve_ didn't know?

"Is there nothing you want?" Tony tried not to sound too desperate.

Steve shook his head slowly. "It's just—weird, I guess? Wanting things at Christmas—it's a foreign concept to me. My mom would always find something to surprise me with, but—wanting usually meant being disappointed." He looked Tony directly in the eye then, and he looked almost sad. Tony's damaged heart trembled in sympathy. As much as Steve didn't smile so much around Tony Stark, he _never_ appeared vulnerable. "That was never a feeling I wanted to associate with Christmas, y'know?"

"That makes sense." Tony swallowed, awkwardly. "But there's still...nothing you want _now_?"

Steve pursed his lips. "Um… you to share your cookies with me?" His sad expression twisted into something more sly. "You're going to get enough of them left for you by all the chimneys you're due to drop down."

"Ha, ha," Tony said, slowly. The cookies left in the tin were all fancily frosted. As difficult as it was to stop milk from soaking the beard, Tony didn't want to have to explain white goo to the dry cleaners, so he peeled off his gloves and placed them neatly on the table before reaching into the tin and passing one to Steve.

Steve took the cookie, but placed it gingerly on the table surface, suddenly quiet.

Tony glanced at him worriedly. Even if Steve was happy to be informal and vulnerable when around _Iron Man_ , he was still unerringly, continuously polite. He always said _please_ and _thank you,_ so to not get any gratitude for the cookie was concerning.

"What?" Tony prompted.

Steve looked frozen and Tony worried that somehow he _had_ been turned into an instant statue, until Steve inhaled sharply and looked at Tony with a wavering smile this time. "Sorry," Steve said, "sorry, it's just—it only just hit me. You're real."

Tony laughed, mostly because he had been so worried there was something wrong, and he didn't know how to feel, and laughing was a default response to most things these days, both happy events and abject terror. "Of _course_ I'm real."

"Yeah," Steve said, softly, like he was the one suddenly trying to disguise his voice. "But usually you're locked up behind metal. It's easy to forget you're flesh and blood, sometimes, especially when you're doing impossible things."

Tony swallowed hard. Steve was staring at him, almost like he was entranced. It was impossible not to stare back. Steve had been close before, was he closer now? Tony's eyes caught on details: the prominent pulse on Steve's neck; the way his blond hair was pleasingly disheveled; the way his t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders, damp with a little sweat; those ever-alert and intense blue eyes.

Steve held eye contact and then took one of Tony's hands in his own, a jerking movement, like it had been an impulse he couldn't hold back; Steve's hand was so very warm and his fingers curled gently around Tony's hand like it was something fragile or precious.

Tony's throat was dry.

Steve's voice was a whisper now. "You're real."

Tony couldn't look away. He wasn't sure he even wanted to. He slowly moved his hand like Steve was a skittish animal who might spook and run if Tony moved too quickly, adjusting his fingers until they were intertwined with Steve's. They were just sitting at the table, holding hands, like it was a normal thing to do, and just _that_ much of a touch was somehow _electric._ Tony's heart was racing and he wanted to know if Steve was feeling it too. There was a light in Steve's eyes that said yeah, he felt it too.

There had been moments before between them that had felt somewhat charged, conversations that Steve and Iron Man had shared that went into the small hours, but nothing had felt close to this. This was insane. This was _insane._ Steve and he were just holding hands. Just one hand. There was no way it should possibly feel this good.

"Why," Tony said, "aren't you letting go?"

Steve stared back, looking slightly wild. "Why aren't you?"

Apparently they just _weren't_ going to let go. Okay. That was fine. Tony could work with that.

"And there's absolutely nothing you want for Christmas?" Tony blurted out, desperate to say something normal. He was definitely sweating. Maybe he should get the Santa suit dry-cleaned _twice._ Maybe he needed to burn it and just buy the hospital a brand new one.

"There might be one thing I want." Steve's voice was strained, like he was aiming to talk normally too and failing. Tony watched him attentively. This moment was a bit weird, and he felt strung out, but if he could walk away from it with a clue for the Secret Santa, maybe that could be a good thing? "I just don't know how to ask for it."

"Ha," Tony breathed, grateful to be able to latch onto a conversation topic. He felt strung apart at the edges, desperate for something to hold onto. "Well, I am Santa," he said. "Normally people just sit on my lap and _ask._ "

Except, oh, maybe that was a tactical error, because Steve's eyes widened a little. "Now _there's_ an invitation," Steve said, with a high-pitched laugh that could be joking, or might be hysteria, but either way, it did cause Steve to pull his hand away from Tony's and that was probably a good thing.

Tony was a crushing instant combination of relief that he could maybe breathe again, and regret that Steve had taken that amazing feeling away. He swallowed, awkwardly enough that his fake beard shook with it, and opened his mouth to say something. And failed. He looked up at Steve helplessly.

Steve's expression was serious, the same way it was when he was looking at a battlefield and calculating scenarios in his head, except all that concentration was focused directly on Tony, and it was almost as head-spinning as that hand-holding sensation had been.

Tony's voice had gone missing, but Steve's hadn't. Steve straightened his shoulders and stared at Tony.

"Tell me," Steve said slowly, his voice shaky but determined, "if I'm reading this wrong."

Tony continued to stare helplessly. He was the one that was frozen now. But Steve wasn't. And because Steve was brave, always so brave, Tony kept watching as Steve got to his feet and took Tony's hand in his again. It was just as electric and Tony couldn't help the gasp that came from his throat at the realization it wasn't just a one-off fluke. For a moment, Tony wondered whether Steve was going to sit in his lap—Tony chalked that thought off as a hysterical daydream brought on by so much time of wishful thinking—and then Steve blew his expectations away like he always did.

Steve didn't sit in Tony's lap. Steve _straddled_ Tony's lap. Tony was a frozen, captive audience. All he could do was watch as Steve swung a leg easily over Tony's and slowly settled his weight down, obviously bearing some of it himself. His movements were slow, but deliberate. Steve was broadcasting them clearly. Giving Tony plenty of time to react and push him away.

"Am I reading this moment wrong?" Steve whispered, his spare hand moving up to Tony's head, fingers curling so gently around the back of Tony's neck. That touch sparked electricity through Tony's body too. Steve tilted his head, his eyes dropping unmistakably to Tony's lips.

"No," Tony whispered, in giddy disbelief. There was no way he could misinterpret Steve's actions at all.

Steve froze at Tony's _no._

"No, you're not reading this moment wrong," Tony hurried to clarify, realizing that Steve had worried it was a _no_ as in _I don't want this._ How could anyone _not_ want this? Something was buzzing in the back of Tony's skull beyond the pleasurable sensations that were rippling through his body at being connected to Steve at this level, something about identity and honesty, but Steve's fingers were at the base of the Santa hat, grazing against the real hair beneath, and a frisson of pure bliss rocked through him, dislodging all thoughts that weren't _Steve, Steve, Steve_ from his head.

"Good," Steve smiled, and pressed that smile against Tony's mouth.

If Tony had paused to consider the logistics of kissing with a fake beard, he probably would have dismissed it as awkward and struck it from his mental list of things that he was interested in trying out. But it didn't seem difficult at all. Or maybe it was Steve, and that's why it was easy. Tony wondered whether he was hallucinating, because it seemed so strange that he _could_ get something he wanted so much, but Steve's weight on his anchored him, as much as Steve's kissing was sending him off into the stratosphere.

"This," Steve murmured breathlessly, in-between kisses that lit up Tony's body so much he wondered whether he would be like those Christmas light display, visible from space, "this is what I wanted." Tony thought those words on their own would be enough to end him, but then Steve added, in a soft and tender whisper, "Shell-head, _my_ Shell-head", and Tony was ruined forever.

He would never be able to forget this moment. He would never be able to be anyone else's. Tony had pushed aside his feelings for Steve for so long, but he couldn't hold them back now. Couldn't think of anything else. Steve was here, kissing him. Steve, for some reason, inexplicably seemed to _want_ to be here, kissing him.

Tony wanted. He just _wanted_ , so much. Everything felt so possible, all at once. If this went much further, Steve would be able to feel the chestplate, and he'd have questions, and Tony—Tony wanted to answer them all. Tony _wanted_ and it was sweet agony, and Steve deserved—deserved _everything._ Steve deserved to know the truth. Tony could tell him, right? It would be easy. There wasn't too much of a reason to hide it from him. And the idea of Steve smiling at him _all_ the time, at Tony Stark and not just Iron Man… It was suddenly all that Tony wanted.

Tony pulled back from the kissing, breathing hard and smiling in a way that felt like it was permanent, like maybe all he'd ever be able to do now was smile. He was struggling to breathe; it seemed like Steve was finding it similarly difficult. Steve leaned his forehead against Tony's.

"Wow," Steve breathed, simply.

 _Wow_ , Tony thought, covered this whole moment pretty well.

"We should talk," Tony said, quietly, knowing everyone hated words like that.

Steve drew his forehead back, attempting a serious expression that was slightly derailed by a somewhat goofy grin he was trying to tamper down. "Yeah," he nodded. "We should."

"I want to tell you," Tony said. "Who I am. You deserve to know."

"I don't need to." Steve stopped trying to clamp down on his smile. "I already know the most important things about you anyway."

Tony had to kiss him for that, because it was just so _Steve._ He knew he had to. This was important. This felt important. This moment felt the same way as it had the first time Tony put his armor on to save people. Fundamental. Everything was about to change again and Tony couldn't proceed on damaged foundations.

Steve deserved the truth. And if he ran screaming, Tony wouldn't blame him.

Tony readied himself to pull back from the kiss, reluctant because each one was as dizzyingly good as the first, and—

"Whoa," Hank Pym said, very loudly. "Um—so there's an emergency—uh—"

Tony's eyes widened as Steve pulled away. Steve grimaced, almost comically.

Steve didn't even clamber off Tony's lap, though; he just casually turned to Hank with a blank expression. "Emergency?" Steve clarified.

"Yeah, uh—" Hank squinted at him. "While you were busy making out with Santa Claus, we got some old trouble in New Jersey—the Wrecking Crew are out to wreck the holidays—didn't you hear your identicard?"

"I left it upstairs, sorry," Steve said.

"Mine's in my sleigh," Tony said, trying not to make eye contact with Hank.

Hank made a noise in the back of his throat. "Let's just—we'll assemble on the roof, ten minutes. Okay?" He shot Steve an accusing look. "Aren't you a little too old to be sitting on Santa's lap, Cap?"

"Very funny," Steve said dryly, rising from Tony's lap. Tony stayed seated, intensely glad the Santa suit was very baggy.

"Iron Man's not responding either," Hank said.

"Oh, I'm sure Santa knows where to find him," Steve said.

Tony coughed awkwardly. "Yeah, he'll meet you up there."

Steve winked at Tony, smiled, and turned to head to the door. Hank followed him. Tony stayed seated a while, then rose to his feet, grabbed his briefcase from the counter Happy had put it on, and headed off to get changed. No rest for the wicked, Tony supposed.

* * *

If things didn't calm down soon, Tony was going to blow something up. Or maybe implode himself.

The last four days had been ridiculous. They'd all had to split up to fight myriad villains who didn't understand that the spirit of the season was supposed to be about giving gifts, not pipe-bombs. The Avengers ended up missing Christmas entirely, swapping their Secret Santa gifts belatedly. Tony had gotten a large supply of coffee from Thor. He'd been stereotyped by the Norse god powerhouse. He loved it.

It was a chaotic jam of hectic events; as soon as Iron Man put one fire out, Tony Stark had to go put another out. His company was trying to implode too. It was just one crisis after another and Tony had barely even _seen_ Steve, let alone talked to him. The kissing almost felt like it had happened to someone else in another lifetime. Maybe Tony's fevered, overworked brain had imagined the whole thing.

Tony, having to figure out the same distribution fuck-up for the seventh time that month, was starting to put it all down as a hallucination when Pepper showed up at his office door to tell him he had a visitor. Tony had a headache; he was tempted to tell them to go away until he caught sight of who it was.

Of course Pepper would ignore Tony's "no interruptions" mandate for Captain America.

"Cap," Tony greeted, glad that his voice was holding steady. Steve was wearing his full uniform. It was always a pleasant view. "It's nice to see you. I hope you've had a good holiday season. Do take a seat."

"It's been busier than I would have chosen, perhaps," Steve inclined his head as he lowered himself into the offered chair. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I was hoping to get a word with Iron Man, if he was available."

"Ah, I've been keeping him busy," Tony said, slowly. "I do apologize. It's been a hell of a week."

"Yes, it has," Steve said, and, beneath his cowl, he blushed a little.

Tony had to fight hard not to smile. He could do this revelation right. Just blurting out the words was awkward. It was much easier to show, not tell. The armor was just downstairs, after all.

"Stay right there," Tony said, starting to rise, "I'll go down to—"

There was a loud buzz on the intercom. "Sorry to interrupt again," Pepper said. "But you said I had to get the papers to you to sign for the new supply chain the moment they came in."

"Of course," Tony said. "Bring them in." He grimaced apologetically at Steve. "This will only take a minute. Then I'll get Iron Man for you."

"Thank you," Steve said.

Pepper bustled in with a pile of papers, marked with post-it notes where Tony needed to sign. Tony gave the papers a cursory look, forcing himself to breathe and slow down. Steve was right there. There was no reason for him to respond _too_ unfavorably to Tony's secret, Tony was pretty sure about that. Nothing he could think of. And then, once the shock had faded, maybe there could be some more kissing… His eyes glazed over a second. Pepper coughed indelicately and Tony cleared his throat, gripped his pen more tightly, and forced himself to concentrate. He quickly signed his name in the marked boxes.

"Thanks, Pep," Tony smiled at her and handed the papers back. She was hesitating like she wanted to say more. "Anything else?"

"R&D called to remind you that they need authorization on some new equipment," Pepper said. "I promised that I'd remind you."

"Consider your promise fulfilled."

Pepper smiled. "Thank you." She hugged the papers closer and headed to the door. She paused just before leaving. "Oh, and the Queen County Hospital called. They wanted to say thank you for your donation efforts, and also, to thank you again for being their Santa last week."

Pepper beamed at him like she hadn't just dropped the equivalent of a pipe-bomb into Tony's life.

If it was possible to die of instant mortification, Tony guessed he was about to find out.

"Thanks, Pepper," Tony said. Maybe his voice was squeaking. She did shoot him an odd look before retreating from the office and closing the door.

To say that the sudden silence in Tony's office was awkward… was probably an understatement.

"Um," Tony said, loudly. Maybe he could sit there frozen and stare at the door and not shift his gaze to the right back to where Steve was sitting and probably staring at him in horror and oh god, Tony hated everything.

Tony slid his gaze slowly to Steve. It felt like half the oxygen had somehow been sucked from the room.

Steve looked poleaxed. "Oh," he said, after a long pause. He wasn't quite looking at Tony. Well. Of course. That made sense. As much as Tony tried not to think about it, the whole secret identity thing was kind of a massive lie. Of course someone like Steve wouldn't like that. Tony had been kidding himself to even briefly think it would be all right.

"Are you okay?" Tony asked, because somehow that seemed the most important thing to know. Tony would take whatever followed, as long as Steve was okay.

"I mean," Steve said, very slowly, "I think so?"

Tony felt like maybe—maybe he could breathe again. "I know the secret identity thing is—" he started, rushing the words out.

"Oh, no, no, the secret identity—that makes sense, especially with your public profile. We all agreed to it anyhow, it would be remiss of me to be upset about something I agreed about. It's just—" Steve finally managed to look Tony in the eye. "It's just—you kissed me back."

Tony blinked rapidly, several times in a row. Steve was staring at him completely perplexed. "I did," Tony said. "But—"

" _You._ And you're _you._ And you kissed _me_ back, I just—I'm—" Steve shook his head. "Was it… what, pity? I don't—because you're—You're _Tony Stark._ You literally could be with anyone you wanted in the entire world—" Steve was gesturing now, "I just—don't understand why if you're _you,_ why you'd—why you'd kiss _me._ "

Tony stared in confusion. Steve looked somehow _miserable,_ and that was unbearable, and nothing he was saying made any sort of sense.

"You didn't know it was me? At all?" Tony squinted. "I mean, I was almost sure in the kitchen for a moment that you'd figured it out." He gestured at himself. "Same height, same eyes, same build."

Steve frowned deeply. "Well, it's just—you were always so interested in me. As Iron Man. And I just—you're a billionaire, Tony. And a genius, the most intelligent person I've ever met. Shell-head being into me made more sense, we work so well together, and he was just—I thought you were just like me, a fellow warrior."

Understanding washed through Tony in a warm wave and he almost laughed; he was able to choke it back because Steve did look utterly miserable and Tony was sure laughter would be misinterpreted. Steve somehow thought… Tony was out of his league? Well, that would be a misunderstanding that Tony could easily clear up. And he could, Tony thought. Steve wouldn't be this messed up if he didn't believe it. Steve, for some perplexing reason, was actually into him—both of him. _All_ of him.

And that meant this thing simmering between them that had sparked so red-hot in the kitchen the other day had the potential to be something _huge,_ something amazing. It was such a big thought that Tony, for the briefest moment, almost wanted to run, rather than strip himself open, rather than be so vulnerable to another person. But then he remembered Steve in the kitchen, bravely taking that first move, and that's something Tony needed to learn too. He needed to learn to be as brave as Steve.

Tony stood up, rounded his table, and, buoyed by Steve's eyes so intently on him, he straddled Steve in the seat and smiled at him. He kept his motions slow and telegraphed his intent as best as he could. He meant to hold Steve close and keep him, as long as Steve would let him. Tony took one of Steve's hands in his own, the same electric feeling sliding between them even though Steve's hands were still in his gloves. Then Tony took his other hand and cupped it around Steve's neck.

"Don't kiss me unless you mean it," Steve said, his voice sounding wrecked.

Tony stared at him as surely as he could. This was probably it, the moment he would have to lay himself as bare as he possibly could. Steve was right—wanting things was difficult. The idea of being disappointed was heart-rending. The idea of a life without Steve was worse. It was funny, Tony thought, how three small words could be so difficult to say and feel so epic, all at the same time.

"I mean it," Tony said before adding, softly, "Wing-head. _My_ Wing-head."

Steve's eyes closed briefly in what looked like sheer bliss. When he opened his eyes, his smile was bright, blinding as a sunrise. Tony regretted that their privacy was only protected by a thin door; he wanted to find out how many hours Steve would sit there and let Tony kiss him. The empirical method. It really was Tony's favorite way to live.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked. "Your secret identity was important to you. You just inadvertently had a boundary violated. How are you feeling about that?"

"I'm okay that it's you. It's kind of weird that you know now. Might take me a while to adjust." Tony nodded. "But you're worth it. I kind of like it." Another rush of that attempt at bravery struck him. "I like you."

Steve beamed. "Good. I like you too. I'm not Santa, I don't let just _anyone_ sit on my lap."

Tony laughed and kissed Steve again, because it felt like the right thing to do.

"I just have one important question before we go any further," Steve said.

Tony leaned back a little, trying not to think of a thousand terrible things at once. Important questions were usually heavy ones. Maybe Steve was already starting to rethink this relationship, before it had even really started. Could Tony blame him? Tony's past held several dark and miserable things. He was far from perfect.

Steve wrinkled his nose. "You're Iron Man."

Tony braced himself. It was one thing for Steve to figure it out and another to say it out loud. "Yes. I am Iron Man."

"So you were my Secret Santa."

Tony nodded. "I was."

"So...why _did_ you get me a cheeseboard for Christmas? I just—it didn't make sense. I wondered if I was missing a joke."

Tony had to hide his laugh in Steve's neck for a moment; his body shook under Steve's hand, so it wasn't hidden so much as muffled. When he raised his face, Steve still looked confused. Tony considered the answer. He hadn't known what to get Steve. Could he just explain that it was Happy's suggestion?

"It's complicated," Tony said. "But I can promise you _Happy_ was part of the complex equation I used to figure out the gift."

Steve huffed a laugh that sounded fond to Tony's ears. "Okay. I just wanted to be sure I wasn't missing a hidden meaning."

"I can take it back," Tony offered, suddenly stricken with sadness. Steve had deserved something more thoughtful, something that fit him better. Steve deserved the world and Tony had given him cheese? "I can return it, get you something else."

"Don't you _dare_ ," Steve said and pulled their entwined hands upward so he could press a kiss against Tony's knuckles. "You gave me _exactly_ what I wanted."


End file.
